


Into The Woods

by kestra_troi



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alpha Peter Hale, Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Always Female Stiles Stilinski, Body adoration, Breeding, Collars, Coming of Age, Drabble, F/M, Full Shift Werewolves, Inspired by a Movie, Kanima Jackson Whittemore, Knotting, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Master Stiles Stilinski, Master/Pet, Minor Character Death, Not Canon Compliant, Off-screen death, One Shot, Pegging, Pet Peter, Praise Kink, Pregnancy, Stiles Stilinski as Little Red Riding Hood, Time Skips, episodic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-09 05:06:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3237422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kestra_troi/pseuds/kestra_troi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is a precocious sixteen year old girl. She decides she wants to claim and collar the Alpha Werewolf in the Woods. So she does. This is the story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into The Woods

**Author's Note:**

> This story exists in a pseudo-medieval, kooky universe. 
> 
> It is only somewhat inspired by the movie-slash-Broadway musical Into The Woods. I have had those damn songs stuck in my head since I saw the film at Christmas. I blame Sondheim. Some of his lyrics separate the different time skips.

 

**_The Way Is Clear_ **

At sixteen when Stiles announced that she was going to claim and collar the Alpha werewolf that had been terrorizing the Woods for nearly a decade, everyone in her little village thought she was crazy. She was just the little girl in red, while he was the monstrous villain of legend and lore. Hunters with lifetimes of experience and training had failed to capture him, let alone claim him or kill him, many in the little village of Beacon Hills thought that Stiles Stilinski had finally flipped her lid just like her mother had. 

The outpouring of support for the Widower Stilinski was staggering. From the moment Stiles made her announcement her neighbors and friends started practicing for when Stiles would go out into the woods and never come back. They brought meals over to the Widower Stilinski. There were offers from some of the village girls to come over once and week and do the cleaning that a man on his own just couldn’t be expected to do. The Hunters offered to go ahead and execute a vengeance strike against the murderous Alpha before Stiles had even opened her birthday presents. The village whore offered her services as a wife of convenience now that the Widower Stilinski was wifeless and soon to be childless. 

No one had faith in the precocious, oftentimes-obnoxious sixteen-year-old girl. No one offered her any advice or offered to help her in her quest. Even her best friend Lydia offered up only this unhelpful statement, “Do what you want, but no green collar. Green is for my Jackson. He looks good in green.”

“Ok, Lyds, sure.” Stiles facetiously agreed. “If I survive and manage to collar the dreaded Alpha werewolf I promise not to make him wear a green one.”

“Thank you, Stiles. That’s all I ask.” Lydia replied ignoring her friend’s sarcastic tone as only she could. “You should go with red. After all it is your favorite color. I mean you wear it almost every day.”

“Ya know instead of offering fashion advice, why not help me plan my attack?” Stiles suggested.

“Why bother?” Lydia returned. “You’re not going to listen to what I say. You’re just gonna go off and do what you do, whether I put in my two cents or not.”

“What?!” Stiles quacked. “What are yo—”

“You’re just gonna run off all half-cocked with no plan and make it up on the fly and hope to Goody God-y Goo-dy that it works. So why should I say anything, but good luck and don’t die.”

“Thanks, Lyds.” Stiles begrudgingly accepted. “Thanks for nothing.”

“Of course, sweets.” Lydia demurred. “You’ll pay me a call if you survive, won’t you?”

“Whatever.” Stiles muttered walking up the path towards the Woods. “What a lovely day for a walk in the Wood. Don’t mind if I do.”

^

When Stiles came home that night, alive and in one piece no one was more shocked or relieved than her father, the Widower Stilinski. He ran up to his daughter and held her close, tighter than he ever had before. “Thank Goody God-y Goo-dy you’re alright! I’ve been worried sick! What happened?!”

The first words out of Stiles’ mouth, her explanation for what had transpired in the intervening hours since she left was, “Well… I’m no longer a virgin.”

“WHAT!?” Her father squeaked. “What are you talking about?!”

“Just what I said. I went into the Woods a blushing virgin and have now come out a woman.”

“What happened?!” Her father continued to inquire, still in complete disbelief. 

“Well I went walking in the Woods. I went on the path we used to take to Grandmother Stilinski’s house, ya know the one that goes in a wide berth of the river? Well there I was going on my merry way when I felt I was being followed. I kept right on going and the feeling got stronger and stronger and I kept on walking further and further until BAM! The Alpha werewolf comes crashing through the underbrush to rip me apart. I’m talking full on hairy snout, big fangs, deadly claws, gnarly growls, and huge red eyes coming at me a mile a minute.”

“What did you do?” Her father asked enthralled in his daughter’s story.

“What else? I ran. Ran for dear life. You know werewolves love a chase. So off I ran. WHOOSH, like the wind. I ran him straight into a mountain ash trap and BAM! He’s mine and he knows it.”

“And? What happened next?”

“Well eventually he gets bored of trying to get out or calling for help, so he shifts BOOM right in front of me and I gotta say Alpha wolf-dude is totally hot. Like smoking hot. Like hotter than Jackson hot.”

“Move on, Stiles.”

“Once he calmed down, we got to talking about this and that and everything else and it turns out we get along real good, so I’m all like ‘Hey, you wanna pop a girl’s cherry?’ and he’s all like ‘I’m too cool for that.’ And I’m all like, ‘Whatever, Grandpa, I bet you can’t even get it up anymore and that’s why you’re going around killing people.’”

“Stiles you didn’t!?”

“Tots did. After that is was like nothing. He was all raring to go, so I threw him down and had my wicked, wicked way with him. He’s got a really great di—”

“Stiles!” 

“Oops.” Stiles blushed. “Sorry, Dad. But long story short I’m gonna see him again next week. He’s so totally _mine_ .”

“Stiles,” Her father started, but nothing else came out of his mouth for a solid minute, his thoughts too much a jungle to offer anything else besides, “Be careful. I know you’re an adult now, kiddo, but you’re still my daughter. I love you. I don’t wanna see you get hurt.”

**_The Light Is Good_ **

Two years later, almost to the day, Stiles walks out of the Woods hand in hand with a man. A man that was naked save for the red collar around his neck proclaiming him to be the property of one, Stiles Stilinski of Beacon Hills. The first person she introduces her new pet to is her father. “Daddy, I’d like you to meet Peter Hale, the former violent Alpha werewolf in the Woods. Isn’t he pretty?”

Peter preens at the praise and shakes his mistress’ father’s hand without a trace of shame. As if being called pretty by an eighteen-year-old girl was the best compliment a man could receive. 

The Widower Stilinski shakes Peter Hale’s hand in shock. He mutters an automatic, “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Hale.” 

“Daaaad,” Stiles chastises. “There’s no need to be so formal. Peter is mine, now; lock, stock, and barrel. You can just call him Peter.”

Dumbfounded her father just nods his head, bowled over by the fact that his daughter, his spastic, snarky daughter is the one to claim and collar the worst menace in the Woods Beacon Hills has ever had. He’s proud and stunned and completely unsure of what this means for them all from now on. 

Stiles on the other hand has everything under control. “Peter, go give my dad a hug.” 

Not skipping a beat Peter brings his naked self up close to the Widower Stilinski and pulls the older man into a big hug. The older man freezes on the spot, taken by surprise, especially once the naked, collared man starts sniffing at his neck. “Uh…?”

“Don’t worry, Daddy. It’s a werewolf thing. He’s memorizing your scent and marking you as part of our pack. Don’t worry he won’t bite. Will you, pet?”

“No, Mistress.” Peter replies resolutely, after pulling away from her father. With a big smile on his face Peter nuzzles Stiles’ face and she turns into the touch, a smile of her own dancing on her lips. 

“Come on, Peter. Let’s go pay a visit to Lydia. I can’t wait to show you off to her. This’ll shut her up about her damn kanima boy-toy Jackson. Once and for all.”

^

“Well I think it’s degrading for a mistress to let her pet penetrate her.” Lydia commented, impaling her pet Jackson on a nicely proportioned wooden cock attached to her hips by sturdy cords. 

“Maybe that’s because _your_ pet’s got the _scaliest_ , little dicklet I’ve ever seen.” Stiles retorts. Jackson growls at his Mistress’ favorite friend and receives a slap to the back of his head as punishment.

“Hush you.” Lydia reprimands. Jackson instantly quells his growling noises and raises his ass higher in the air for his Mistress with a plaintive sound as way of apologizing. 

Peter rumbles laughingly against his Mistress’ neck as he continues thrusting his cock inside her warm, wet sex. _His_ Mistress would never domesticate him to such a degree; she liked him a tad wild, a tad dominant. Not too much so, but enough to get her orgasms off him and still keep him in his place. 

**_I Have No Fear_ **

Four years to the day that Stiles meandered into the Woods to claim her werewolf and she was now back at their spot, the place she first pushed him down and rode his dick for all she was worth, and this time he was on top. On top and hairy from the pull of the full moon, thrusting his cock into her sex with animalistic passion as she clung to him for dear life. 

“That’s it Peter! That’s it pretty boy!” She raucously encouraged. “Knot me! Fill me up with your puppies! Knot me, pet! Do it! Be a good boy for me!”

Peter roared, his neck snapping to the side as it always did when she called him a good boy, but she could feel his knot swelling fast. Her pet was an obedient one; bossy, sometimes teasingly stubborn, but in the end he always obeyed Stiles. Even as a wolf, with the fur, fangs, and claws of a predator he was in _her_ hands, subject to _her_ will. And neither of them would have it any other way. 

^

Six months into her pregnancy Stiles was blatantly showing off her baby bump to all her stuck up neighbors who cowered in fear of her and her pet werewolf. The last neighbor who dared speak ill of her or her pups, the old hated Bachelor Harris had been torn asunder by an angry Peter with his bare hands. From then on Stiles had kept her pet in his wolf state, since he was so much more manageable when he was a beast of instinct and not a plotting, scheming human.

As Stiles walked aimlessly around her home village, her red-collard wolf keeping close by at her feet she waved good morning to her friends and called hello to all her bothersome neighbors who thought Stiles was much nicer before pair bonding with the old Alpha in the Woods. To an extent they were right, but really she wasn’t any different than she had been, except now she had the power to do whatever she wanted and the confidence to do so. Claiming Peter had given her that. The least she could do is help the troubled man procreate; the pretty man deserved pretty, werewolf babies and Stiles was nothing if not generous. 

Besides, Stiles was rather enjoying her new status as Beacon Hills’ resident supergirl. She is the Red Witch, the Wolf Witch, the She-Wolf of Beacon Hills. The girl in the red hood had finally grown up and into her powers. Her ability to keep Peter as a wolf 24-7 was proof positive of this. Awake or not, he wasn’t walking around on two legs without her permission. And since she had been presented with the bloody, still-beating heart of her old village tutor the last time Peter was bipedal, she figured it best that he remain a quadruped until the delivery.

**_Nor No One Should_ **

Peter had warned his Mistress that werewolf pups mature faster than their human counterparts, but seeing it first hand was a revelation to the now twenty-six year old. She had given birth to five beautiful werewolf pups, only six years ago, but already her children were surpassing the knowledge of their new village tutor Marin Morrell. Soon they would be as mature as Stiles had been when she first wandered into the Woods to claim her mate and pet. 

Peter himself had progressed remarkably following the birth of his five pups: Malia, Claudia, Anielka, Darek, and Peter Junior. Playing a part in raising his own pups had softened him, not by leaps and bounds, but nowadays most of the village no longer feared the old Alpha in the Woods, especially after he helped vanquish the Darach that was stealing the little village’s virgins. Mothers didn’t hide their children away when he walked into view still shirtless as ever, his deeply red collar still shiny and new, not a hint of age on it or him. Even Jackson had grown accustomed to his natural-born enemy. 

“I have to admit, he certainly has been a help to us.” Lydia acquiesced. “And I suppose you weren’t a complete idiot to go out into the Woods and make him your own. Having an Alpha werewolf on our side has been nice.”

“Thank you, Lyds for your support, however late it may be.” Stiles ungraciously, but lovingly accepted. “By the way would you mind watching the pups tonight? Since you are their Good-y mother, after all. They do so adore toying with your pet and Peter and I could use the night to ourselves.”

“Toy with?” Lydia indignantly echoed. “You mean those little terrors like scratching him up and biting his face and chasing his tail and riding him like he’s their own personal pony, don’t you?”

“Yeah that. All that.” Stiles seconded immediately. “Why do you worry so much? He heals. And besides they need the practice.”

“Fine. Whatever. For you. I’ll do it for you. And because I think the pups are in desperate need of etiquette lessons. You and your pet are clearly raising them to be wild, hellhounds. One night a week enough?”

“For now.” Stiles shrugged. “I’ll let you know if we need more alone time.”

“I expect some things in return.” Lydia warned.

“Yeah, yeah, the moment you start popping out eggs for your little lizard boy, I will happily be right there beside you describing in detail how completely grossed out I am to see a human woman give birth to slimy, leathery eggs.”

“UGH.” Lydia groaned, rolling her eyes. “You’re incorrigible.”

“I know.”

^

Later that afternoon after whisking her pups away to their Auntie Lydia’s house, Stiles plopped onto her couch as naked as could be waiting for her pet and mate to return home from a busy day of idleness. She didn’t have to wait long. 

He sauntered into their house shirtless and collared and looking ready for some adult time with his mate, smirking as he took in her beautiful naked form. 

“Lock the door, pet.” Stiles instructed. “And get over here.”

Peter obeyed and stalked to his Mistress just like he used to in the olden days before she had gotten him to wear his collar. He sniffed the air as he stepped closer, scenting her growing arousal as she touched herself while keeping her eyes locked on her predatory mate. He was about to fall to his knees so he could crawl between her legs and taste her sex, as he so dearly loved to do, but before he could Stiles stopped him. 

“Go stand over there.” Stiles commanded, nodding her head in the direction she wanted him to go. “And drop your drawers.”

Wasting no time Peter did as he was ordered, and soon he stood naked in front of his Mistress.

“Maybe I should have you walked around naked from here on in.” Stiles thought out loud. “Why don’t I? You’re so fucking pretty.”

“I doubt the mothers in our village would appreciate the anatomy lesson for their kids.” Peter replied. 

“Publicly probably not. But I bet a whole lot of them would be thinking of you when they’re getting off and not their fat, ugly husbands.”

Peter snorted his assent, mimicking his Mistress’ motions and touching himself all over for her benefit. Stiles groaned wantonly. 

“But they can’t have you, cause you’re MINE.” She proclaimed jumping out of her seat into her mate’s arms. Peter’s eyes flared red reveling in his mate’s possessiveness as she crashed their lips together passionately. He could feel her wetness against his thigh as they battled for dominance in their kiss. She won. She always did.

“Those eyes,” Stiles muttered her hands touching every inch of his skin that she could reach. “That face…these lips…this thick neck…these broad shoulders…and muscled arms…this perfect chest…this broad back that I love to mark up…the best ass in the world…and a nice big cock and knot…the equal of any man in the village.”

“Equal?” Peter questioned, incensed at the comparison.

“Fine, the better of any man in the village. Geez…” Stiles sighed as she roamed her hands over her mate’s hardening length. “You’re beautiful and you got the ego to match.”

Swinging her leg around her mate’s waist Stiles climbed him like a tree. Peter rumbled hungrily in his chest as he scented his Mistress’ neck and left little stinging love bites. 

“Fuck me, Peter! My good boy…my pretty wolf…Knot me up! Fill me up with more of your puppies! Want them! All of them! A whole army of pretty wolf-witch puppies!”

And so it was. 

From Beacon Hills to Mystic Falls everyone came to know of the Red Witch, her Alpha Werewolf mate, and their army of werewolf-witch hybrids.


End file.
